


Unhappy Campers

by Sarah_M



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Humor, Mild Sexual Content, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16411694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_M/pseuds/Sarah_M
Summary: This didn't come out at nicely as I would have liked. Somethings just look better in your head. But, I wrote it, and the wonderful sharim28 kindly took the time to beta it (thank you!), so you may have it.





	Unhappy Campers

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't come out at nicely as I would have liked. Somethings just look better in your head. But, I wrote it, and the wonderful sharim28 kindly took the time to beta it (thank you!), so you may have it.

The Colonel seems to be in a rather good mood considering they are one night's sleep away from a Tok’ra planned mission. Especially given that historically these sorts of things tend to end up with them in more trouble than it’s usually worth in the first place.    
   
“So, Jacob, when was the last time you and Carter went camping together?” he grins settling back down on his log.    

“I don’t think our pre-mission stop off on this forest planet really counts sir,” she says doubtfully. 

“Are there tents Carter?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is there a fire Carter?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is Dad here Carter?”

“Yes sir.”

“Is there a bag of marshmallows Carter?”

“Technically those are Jonas’s and we haven’t actually eaten any of them...” she trails off as he raises his eyebrows at the reply, he clearly doesn’t want her to give him. Pressing her lips together with a nod, she relents, “I mean, _yes sir_.”

“Sounds like camping to me,” he finishes brightly. 

Her dad doesn’t seem all that interested in the Colonel’s banter, but then he isn’t usually. Chances are his mind is far more focused on what the next few days might bring.

“If I remember correctly, the last time I took you camping you were sixteen – maybe seventeen?” Jacob chimes in. 

Okay, so maybe he is half interested.

“Seventeen,” she confirms, less than enthusiastic about the direction this conversation is headed. There’s a sixth sense that often kicks in at times like this – she can feel it coming. And she is not exactly eager to reminisce on her teenage years with the two men sitting here. Especially when it’s likely to be at her expense. 

“And I believe you hated every minute of it. Didn’t talk to me the entire time,” Jacob continues.

“Seriously? After all this time you’re still going to pretend that taking me camping that weekend had nothing to do with me having _a date_ planned?” 

“How was I meant to know mathletes dated?” he shrugs innocently.

“Wait - _wait!”_ the Colonel interrupts, clearly amused. “You were a mathlete?” 

She rolls her eyes. Yep, this is exactly where she thought this was going.

“You were captain of the mathletes weren’t you Sam?” Jacob asks, frowning in thought.

“That’s impressive. I don’t know why something like that wouldn’t be in your file.”

“Okay, yes, very funny. Are you both done?”

“I’m sorry,” the Colonel pauses for a moment. Clearly unable to hold himself back he adds, “I’m sure as the captain of the mathletes you would have been a very well-behaved teenager. I bet you never gave your dad any grief or got caught getting your ass - _head -_ I meant head - into any trouble.”

Of all the times he could choose _those_ very specific words, in relation to _this_ very specific conversion, it has to be when she’s sitting right next to her father. Her body tenses and her eyes widen, she can’t stop it, because she knows precisely what memory is about to be dredged up for him. It’s the exact same one that’s now flashing vividly in her own mind. Scowling and shaking her head subtly to the Colonel, she hopes it will be enough to have him understand that he absolutely needs to drop this conversation _right now._

“What? Why are you shaking your head at me like that?” 

She presses her eyes closed, wholly disappointed at his lack of finesse. Excellent. 

An uncomfortable silence begins to drag out – and she’s suddenly very grateful that the other half of the team is asleep already. Risking a glance to over to her father, she can see that he is perfectly rigid. She’s guessing that, much like her, when enough time passes, he can manage to forget that horribly mortifying moment in their past and pretend like it never happened. That is, until times like right now, when someone or something brings the recollection to the forefront. 

“Jacob? You okay?” he asks, frowning at him.

Selmak’s voice resounds instead, “Jacob and I are going to take a brief walk. We will return shortly.” 

They watch as her dad makes a hasty exit with the help of a two-thousand-year-old alien – which is apparently an assistance he requires right now – leaving them sitting alone around the crackling fire.

“Why would you do that?” she shoots him an irate look. Seems only right that she can be annoyed with him – really, it’s his fault. 

“Me?” his voice heightens in surprise. “I didn’t do anything. You on the other hand... what kind of mathlete were you?”

Leaning her elbows on her knees, she covers her face with her hands. “I’m going to go. Away.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

“No,” she says, standing promptly and making her escape.

“What? Come on,” he calls after her. “You’re really not going to tell me?” 

Behind the tents, she tips her head back, gazing up at the stars visible from the small clearing. Who knows, after a few years maybe she can forget about all of this - again. There are at least two things she can be thankful for; one is that the next few days are going to be too busy to dwell on this, and the other is that at least the Colonel hasn’t followed her. 

“So,” her CO’s voice rings out from behind her. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

Never mind. Her shoulders sag as she turns to face him.  “No.”

“Come on,” he encourages, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What was so awful that it made a retired air force General make a run for the tree line.” 

She hates that he finds this so entertaining, but there’s something about his amusement that’s infectious. “Why do you want to know so bad?” 

“Call me curious...” he shrugs with his hands in his pockets, looking incredibly boyish.

“You were just making fun of me a few minutes ago, why should I trust you?” she arches her eyebrow at him impishly.

“I promise I won’t ever mention it again – or tell anyone,” he tries to persuade her, edging a little closer. “My mother once caught me getting to second base with Mandy Silverson behind the garden shed when I was fifteen. She hit me, _hard_ , with a spatula.” 

A chuckle escapes her lips at his ability to disarm her in a way that only he can, leaving her smiling warmly for him. “Okay. Except this is way worse than that.” She can tell he thinks that she’s going to give in on this one.

“Sharing is caring Carter.” 

The way he keeps grinning at her is making her insides hum and it increases tenfold as he slowly shuffles closer again, almost completely eliminating the remaining space between them. Butterflies let loose in her stomach, fluttering madly as she peers up at him from beneath her lashes, meeting his dark, alluring brown eyes.

“What bad thing did you do?” he murmurs. 

Her eyes immediately drift down to his lips at his husky tone. She can see his gaze drop to do the same, and her tongue peaks out to wet her lips unconsciously. “Maybe someday I’ll show you,” she hints, softly tempting, letting the veiled insinuation hang.

He waits a beat, considering her. “I’m going to like it aren’t I?”

“I’m confident you will,” she confirms with a sly half smirk, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Nice,” he grins back at her, caught up in the unexpected intimate moment they’ve found themselves in. Then his expression changes, brow pinching in thought as if contemplating something deeply important. “Your poor dad.” 

She huffs out a soft laugh before an intrusive voice from behind her breaks through the moment sharply. 

“Yes. Poor me. Again.” 

They jump apart hastily. “Jacob,” Jack winces and clears his throat, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Too long,” he replies dryly, a dark expression on his face.

The tension around them is palpable as he glowers, first at him and then her, dressing them down in a way she expects comes naturally to both senior officers and parents. She chews at the inside of her cheek nervously, averting her gaze – desperate to look anywhere other than at either of them. 

“Does it help that I don’t know what it is?” Jack tries hesitantly.

“No. Because I do,” he surmises, utterly unimpressed. He leaves without another word, taking off in the direction of his tent.

“God your dad is stealthy.”

“Don’t I know it.” She presses her eyes closed, exhaling a long breath that she’d been holding in her anxiety. 

“I’m sure it will blow over...”

Her eyes instantly snap open at his poorly picked description.

“Ohh!” a flicker of realization crosses his face. It leaves quicker than it came, morphing instead into one of panic. “ _Crap!_ I’m supposed to be sharing a tent with him!” He appears genuinely alarmed at the prospect. “Swap tents with me?”

“Not a chance.”

“I _order_ you to.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“Traitor.”

“Good news is that he doesn’t have a spatula handy.”

“There’s that.”

“He does sleep with his zat though...”

“Okay. I was having a good night - now I think camping with the Carter’s sucks.”

She gives him another dry look for his phrasing.

Flailing his arms in frustration, he lets out an exasperated huff. “Make me a list of words for us avoid using around your dad for at least the next, I don’t know, two to three decades and I’ll see what I can do.” 

There goes that chipper mood he had started the night with.   
   
Although on a positive note, it is nice to know he has long term plans for them in mind.


End file.
